


Perchance to Dream

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Ficlet, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-05
Updated: 2006-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-27 11:56:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10808550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: "Sirius," he breathes, "You're--you're--"





	Perchance to Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: sazzlette was complaing that there wasn't any good Sirius/Harry being written, so I decided to prove her wrong.  


* * *

There is a soft brush of lips on his skin, like butterfly wings, and Harry blinks awake to a pair of bright grey eyes and long dark hair and the scritch scratch of stubble against his cheek, and his breath whooshes out of his chest in shock and surprise and delight.

" _Sirius_ ," he breathes, "You're--you're--" There's a familiar smile on Sirius' face, and Harry can't help but echo it.

"I'm back, Harry," comes Sirius' rough, low voice, and Harry pulls him down and hugs him as tight as he can, not quite able to believe that it's really him, that he's really here after being gone for so long.

“Easy,” Sirius whispers, chuckling into Harry’s ear, and Harry pulls back.

“Remus will be so-” Sirius hushes him with a finger on Harry’s lips.

“I just want to see _you_ right now, Harry,” he murmurs, and Harry hugs him so hard that he pulls Sirius onto the bed, nearly on top of him, and Sirius’ lips brush his ear, and _God_ , he can’t help it, but Harry’s cock grows heavy and hard under the thin material of his pajamas, and Sirius is just so close, not really moving, just pressing his face into Harry’s neck as Harry breathes him in, relishing in the scent he’s missed for so long, that he tried desperately to remember as he pressed his face into Sirius’ pillow and cried himself to sleep that first night without him. Harry’s face burns as his cock twitches when Sirius shifts a tiny bit, and he tries to squirm away before Sirius knows, because it’s godawful embarrassing to have an erection when you’ve just been reunited with your Godfather whom you thought was dead, but Sirius shifts too and _ohgod_ , his hip presses against Harry’s straining hard-on and Harry gasps and freezes.

He expects Sirius to cringe in disgust, or to casually move away, or to sit up embarrassedly, but nowhere in his head does he expect another shift of hips and deliberate friction against his heated skin and the hot press of another hard cock against his own hip.

Sirius is hard too. Sirius knows he’s hard and Sirius is hard too. And then there is a wet, warm mouth against his neck, and the slick slide of a tongue up to his ear, and Sirius _grinds_ against his cock and Harry’s breath hitches and his hands go to clutch at the back of Sirius’ shirt, holding on for dear life. Sirius licks the shell of his ear slowly, and then tongues a patch of sensitive skin behind that makes Harry’s cock throb.

“Do you want this?” comes the ragged whisper in his ear, and Harry can only gasp and curl one leg around Sirius’ hip and _thrust_ up against him, hands pressing against the lean muscles of Sirius’ back. Sirius groans softly, barely a breath, nipping and sucking at Harry’s neck as he rocks his hips against Harry’s, sliding his cock against Harry’s hip, sending little fireworks through Harry’s nerves with every hard grind.

“Missed you so much,” Sirius says, voice muffled against Harry’s neck, and thrusts harder. Harry can feel the heat of Sirius’ cock through the thin fabric of his pajamas; it burns through to his skin. Sirius surrounds his senses, soft breath tickling his ear, body covering Harry’s, the once-familiar scent filling Harry’s nostrils, and Harry drops his head back against the pillow, mouth falling open as he gasps for breath.

Harry’s chest is tight with joy because Sirius is _here_ and alive and his body is pressed against Harry’s and his mouth is tracing the edge of Harry’s jaw and he’s moving faster now, rutting against Harry, grunting softly with every abbreviated stroke. Sirius stills and then bucks hard against Harry, and wetness seeps through Harry’s pajamas as he shudders and Harry’s breath catches in his throat because _he’s made Sirius come_ , and then Sirius kisses his mouth, tongue slipping between Harry’s lips, muffling Harry’s cry as he thrusts upward and comes hard, cock pulsing and sputtering against Sirius’ clothed hip. They kiss slowly as they come down, learning each other’s mouths, tongues lazily gliding together as he rubs Sirius’ back gently.

Harry’s breath returns slowly and Sirius rolls off of him, wrapping one arm around Harry’s waist as he kisses the corner of Harry’s mouth, his jaw, his ear, his neck, and finally rests his head on Harry’s shoulder.

“I have so much to tell you,” Harry says softly, and Sirius shushes him once more.

“Sleep now,” he mumbles, and Harry closes his eyes, softly stroking Sirius’ soft hair.

The last Harry hears before he drifts off is Sirius’ voice, barely audible, saying “I love you Harry, don’t forget that.”

~O~

In the morning, Harry awakens with a bright smile on his face and the stiff scratch of his stained sleep bottoms. He peels them off and slips on a fresh pair before bounding down to breakfast.

“Good morning, Remus!” he calls out, and the older man gives him a small smile and sips his tea carefully.

“Morning, Harry. Can I get you some tea?”

“Where is he?” Harry asks brightly, looking around for any sign of Sirius, and Remus quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Where is who?”

“Sirius, of course. Where’s he hiding?” Harry opens the pantry, just in case he was in there.

“Sirius?” Remus’ voice is soft and slow.

“Yes, Sirius, Last night, he--”

“Sirius is gone, Harry. He’s been dead for three years.” There’s a pain to Remus’ voice, and the words deflate Harry’s happiness.

“But-- He was--” Harry sinks into a chair, sputtering. He can’t help the tears welling up in his eyes and the lump in the back of his throat. “I guess it was just a dream, then.” Harry closes his eyes, trying to bring back the memory of Sirius covering him, lips pressed against his, enveloping his senses, and a tear slips free and rolls down his cheek.

“Are you alright, Harry?” Remus says gently, covering Harry’s shaking hand with his own and squeezing it softly.

Harry nods, knuckling away the wetness on his cheek, and takes a deep breath. “Tea would be lovely.” he says, ignoring the way his voice shakes, and Remus squeezes his hand once more before rising to pour a steaming cup. Harry takes it gratefully, spooning in a lump of sugar and bringing it to his lips.

He pauses, remembering the taste of Sirius’ kisses, and then takes a sip, washing it all away.


End file.
